


The Theory of Love and Loss

by Jellymish



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Twelfth Doctor, Character Study, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, LGBTQ Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellymish/pseuds/Jellymish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You're not heartless. You'll never, ever be heartless. Cause you're still you. You're still the Doctor. And the Doctor… his hearts are so big, he carries the universe in them." </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ever since he regenerated, things have been quite different for the Doctor, especially in the love department. This little story is about the Doctor dealing with his lacking understanding of romantic love and the nagging self-doubt he's been faced with. And Clara, who shows him just how valuable their friendship really is.</p><p>AroAce!Twelve. Doctor/Clara friendship fic, set before ‚Dark Water'. One-Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Theory of Love and Loss

**Author's Note:**

> _This thing mainly happened because I have this headcanon that Twelve is aro ace. So I decided to write something from the point of view of a person for whom love is something they look at from the outside in._
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> _And cause, well... there's loads of whouffle and slash and stuff around, but hardly any celebration of a platonic relationship between the dear Doc and Clara, which I find very sad! Friends are so important and we take them for granted far too often. So I thought: What the hell, if nobody else is gonna do it, I'll have a go. And lo and behold: I actually finished it._

**THE THEORY OF LOVE AND LOSS**

Love. That great conundrum in life. Somehow so universal, but somehow… so perplexing. Said to be the greatest emotion one could ever feel, said to have the ability to move mountains and lift one's spirits up into heaven. And yet, indescribable. Immeasurable. Said to be wonderful, but yet terrible at the same time. Conflicting, that was the word. It was a conflicting emotion.

How could a thing so commonly felt by all kinds of races across the universe remain so annoyingly elusive? And how could it wield so much power? People killed in the name of love. Died for it, waged wars over it. Could feel both ecstatic and tormented because of it. Sometimes, it drove people mad. It was strange to find that not a single person in history had found a clear, understandable definition for what love actually was, Considering that it was such a strong emotion. Of course, chemicals and hormones were a big part of it. But if that was the only factor, someone somewhere would have successfully mixed a 'love potion' at some point in time. Which wasn't the case. Maybe you only understood once you'd felt it. Like a secret club you only gained access to if you uttered the right words.

Sighing deeply, the Doctor once again studied the blackboard he stood in front of, glaring at the word on its surface in a rather accusing way. On the left, written in white chalk dust, his own spidery handwriting declared: _'love'_.

Love. But not affection for family. He understood that. The bond between parent and child, that was love, wasn't it? Or love for a close friend, he certainly knew what that felt like. But… it wasn't the same, was it? Otherwise he would have understood. Love for a child happened because there was a connection between parent and offspring. Love for a friend happened because of familiarity. But the other kind? That was love between strangers. Apparently, it hit people like lightning, just by looking at someone who was… what, compatible? Maybe. Compatible for what, exactly? Reproduction? Passing on your genes and producing healthy offspring? Keeping your species going?

Staring at the blackboard, the Doctor stepped forward and wiped away the word _'love'_ with one swift movement, simultaneously expelling the thoughts from his mind. That word wouldn't do on its own. Then, after a moment's silence, his hand guided the chalk over the surface once again, writing _'romantic love'._ Yes, that was good term. Much more precise. He studied it for a moment, then moved again and pulled the chalk across the blackboard, forming a long arrow. To the right of it, he wrote _'loss'_.

Stepping back once again, he stuck his hands into his pockets and frowned, letting the words sink in.

_romantic love ––––– > loss_

Feeling unhappy with what presented itself in front of him, he drew another arrow, this time pointing at _'romantic love'._ Below it, he wrote ' _why?'_ and underlined it thickly for emphasis.

 _romantic love _–––––__ > loss  
î  
why?

It was then that a short, sharp knock pulled him out of his reverie and the Tardis doors opened with a familiar squeaking sound. The Doctor turned around, hand still raised and clutching the tiny piece of chalk, as he spotted Clara trotting in and smiling widely at him.

"Hiya!" she exclaimed in a chirpy voice, heading up to the console with a bounce in her step.

The Doctor frowned and slowly descended the stairs, depositing the chalk stub in his trouser pocket. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh well, hello to you too Clara, nice to see you," she muttered in response. "The Tardis just happens to have landed in my livin' room, so what am I doing here? I live here, that's what."

She crossed her arms and watched the Doctor with a bemused expression as he reached the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows knitted together tightly. "It's Friday. Weren't you supposed to be with P.E. tonight?" he asked, ignoring her remarks. "Date night?"

"Danny? Nah, bowling night with the boys. Every second Friday of the month. Never misses it."

"Ah."

"Why, what're you up to?" She craned her neck to try and get a glimpse of the monitor atop the console, but the Doctor moved swiftly and turned it away from her.

"Nothing much. Just passing the time while the Tardis is running a repair cycle."

"Hmm… I think you're up to something," she said conspiratorially, slowly moving around the console.

"Do you?" the Doctor retorted, walking away from her and pulling the monitor with him. The result looked like a strange, circular dance between the two of them, as they moved around the console in unison.

Clara nodded. "Yes. Absolutely, yes. Right now, you're acting exactly the same way you did when you went 'undercover' at the school."

"Am I?"

"I know you. I _know_ something's up. And I wanna know what."

"Do you now?"

Clara stopped and narrowed her eyes at him, while the Doctor looked up and returned the glance with a blank expression. Stern silence passed between the two of them as time ticked by, until Clara finally gave in.

She held up her hands in a gesture of defeat and said, "All right. Allright, so you're not going to tell me. Maybe you just want to sit around and mope on your own. Fine by me. Just stop doin' it in my living room."

The Doctor was caught off guard by that remark. "What?" he said and frowned.

"You. Tardis. My flat," Clara tried to help along. "Bit of a daft place to pick if your plan was to be left alone."

Her words caused him to raise his eyebrows and form a silent 'oh' with his mouth. It dawned on him that landing here might not have been the best course of action to take after all. It simply had been the first place that came to mind at the time. "Yes… I see your point," he admitted.

Clara frowned as a thought dawned on her. "Speaking of that… how long have you actually been here?" she asked.

the Doctor shrugged. "Oh, not long."

" _Doctor_."

"I… arrived about ten minutes after you left."

"What? you've been here all day?"

"You were supposed to be with P.E.!" he retorted accusingly.

"His name is _Danny_. And anyway, that doesn't give you the right to camp out in my livin' room!" Clara shot back, feeling the familiar twinge of annoyance. "You can't use my apartment as a parking lot!"

"Why? You weren't using it anyway."

"That's not the point!" Clara let out an angry huff. "Look, it's my apartment. I'm responsible for it. I don't want you hangin' around without me knowing."

The Doctor smirked in a decidedly sarcastic way. "What, d'you think I'm going to blow it up or something? Turn it into a lab and melt a hole in the floor? Throw a party and invite a few _daleks_ , perhaps?"

Crossing her arms, Clara shot him a venomous look. "Is it just me or are you even more tetchy than usual?"

"I don't know. You tell me!"

"Yeah, definitely. More tetchy."

As an answer, the Doctor exhaled sharply and shot her an icy glare, before turning his attention back to the buttons on the console. "And your point is…?" he finally added.

"You should have asked me first! That's my point."

"And would you have said 'yes'?"

"Almost certainly not."

He looked up at Clara with an innocent expression and shrugged. "See? Not asking is much more efficient. Saves us both a lot of breath. A well-calculated compromise."

She continued glaring at him, arms crossed. "I hate you."

"I really don't think you do," he said and gave her the briefest of smiles, before bounding off to the stairs and disappearing beneath the platform.

Feeling the anger and annoyance bubble in her chest, Clara kept her eyes on the opposite wall. "I do though. I really, really hate you right now," she declared to the room in general.

The only response she got was a grunt and a clink of metal from down below, presumably from the general direction of the work bench which sat down there. Clara recognized the signs. The issue was over and done with, as far as he was concerned. She probably wouldn't get a response and would never hear an apology from him either. Sometimes he was just an utter, self-absorbed, insensible moron.

That idiot. She would get him back for it. If he wasn't going to talk, she'd just have to do it the passive-aggressive way.

So, without much more thought, Clara made her way up to the second floor, to pick out his favorite book and hide it somewhere in a _really_ clever place. She knew that sort of thing annoyed him to no end.

At least, that was the plan. Until something caught her eye.

"Doctor?" she shouted down from the top of the stairs, her eyes fixed on the blackboard.

Footsteps echoed through the room, emanating from somewhere below the console and shortly after, the Doctor's head appeared over the side of the platform. "What is it?" he shouted back at her.

She turned around and looked at him with a rather amused expression, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. "What's all this about?"

The Doctor's gaze wandered from her over to the blackboard. On its surface, the brilliant white letters still declared:

 _romantic love _–––––__ > loss  
î  
why?

A barely visible wince went through his body and he started moving up the stairs, trying to think of an answer. This was precisely the conversation he didn't want to have with her.

Not managing to think of anything better, he declared: "It's a personal project I'm working on."

"What, like a science project?" Clara questioned and started walking downwards to meet him on the central platform. "You're not seriously telling me that you're trying to explain _love_ with a… a scientific theory?"

The Doctor stood still a few feet away and darted a cautious glance at her, then at the blackboard. Finally, he turned his gaze back at Clara. "It's of a more… philosophical nature," he said cautiously, but with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"No!" She shook her head in disbelief. "You have _got_ to be joking!"

"I don't do jokes," the Doctor replied and stomped past her to once again, to busy himself with the Tardis controls.

Watching him with a perplexed expression, she leaned against the console… and after a few moments, she started laughing.

The Doctor's head snapped up with a start, eyes frowning in bewilderment. "You're laughing. Why are you laughing?" he exclaimed as he came around the console to face her.

"You're adorable!" Clara managed, gasping for air. She caught a glimpse of his baffled visage and had to turn away to stop from chortling.

"Stop it. Stop. _laughing,_ " he yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "It's not _'adorable'_ , this is very serious!"

"No, really. You are _so_ adorable." Still out of breath, Clara finally got herself under control and with a wide grin on her face, she said, "You don't understand it, so you're tryin' to figure it out in the only way you know: With science. Or philosophy or whatever… thing you use to explain the universe with. And you're really embarrassed about that, aren't you? You're embarrassed that you don't understand it."

Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, red lining angrily flashing out from inside his coat, the Doctor narrowed his eyes at her. "No," he declared in a clear voice, "this has nothing to do with me being… _embarrassed,_ as you like to put it. Which I am not, just to make that clear."

Turning his back on her, he started moving away from Clara, a hand tracing the edge of the console. "It's true, I don't understand the… sentiment behind what most people call 'romantic love', and I probably never will. What I do want to understand is why it wields so much power over people." He whirled around and fixed his friend with piercing eyes. "I want to know why it has so much control over their actions."

Stepping closer cautiously, mirroring the Doctor's movements in tracing the Tardis console, her brow creased in skepticism. "Doctor, you're talking as if love were a weapon."

"Isn't it?" the Doctor responded gravely.

Clara shook her head slowly. "What are you talking about?"

"Fun fact about marriages." The Doctor pointed an accusatory finger up at the blackboard, which still silently declared the words, just as he had written them down. "Your country, the United Kingdom. Almost fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce. And still, people seem to be convinced that it'll last forever. Marriage vows, Clara: 'till death do us part'. These words… they're irrational! If you look at the demographic… It just doesn't make sense!"

"Actually, _you're_ the one not making sense," Clara pointed out, unsure if she should be amused or concerned. "What exactly is your point?"

"My point is that your so-called romantic love turns people into mindless monkeys! As soon as love is involved in any way, people loose their heads! All rationality goes out the window. Which makes them very dangerous indeed." Not finding the right words, the Doctor gesticulated with his hands, frustrated at his own inability to form his thoughts into coherent sentences. "Take Romeo and Juliet, for instance: Greatest love story in human history, some say. Loved each other so much they committed suicide over it. Another example: The war between the Targonians and the Jusuka. King of the Targonians falls in love with queen of the Jusuka, she turns him down, he declares war on the Jusuka to take her by force. Both planets destroy each other. Millions dead. Don't you see?"

The Doctor spread his arms to underline his point. "Love ends in tragedy, Clara. It hurts people. At the end of the day, it always leads to loss. So… Why bother?"

"Why bother?" Clara stared at him, not believing her ears. "Seriously, I knew you were alien, but I never thought you were _that_ alien."

"Oh, rubbish! This has nothing to do with me being 'non-human'. Plenty of species experience the phenomenon." Once again, he pointed his hand at the blackboard. "This is an undeniable truth, Clara. _This_ kills people, this generates countless problems, it disrupts everything! Why would you bother?"

Clara's mouth was hanging open, her eyes as big as saucers. They weren't honestly having that conversation, right? The Doctor couldn't actually be serious about this… right? And then another thought crept up from the pits of her subconsciousness: Had he really change _d that_ much?

She caught herself and closed her mouth, not wanting to take the thought further. Not sure how to respond, she spent a few moments staring at him. He returned the action. Finally, she leaned against the console defiantly. "Okay, then. Leave," she said, shrugging with an air of nonchalance.

"What?"

"I said: Leave. Leave and don't come back."

The Doctor felt the metaphorical floor crumble away beneath his feet. This sounded far too familiar. "W-what? But…" he stammered.

"You know as well as I do that one day, I'm gonna leave. I'm not a time lord, I'm human. Got a much shorter life span than you do. One day, like it or not, I'm gonna die. And you'll most likely live to witness it. Or maybe, I'll decide to leave and have a quiet, normal life somewhere without any crazy time-traveling aliens occupying my livin' space all the time." Clara shrugged. "So, why bother being friends with me now? Cause it won't last forever."

"Now you're being unfair."

"Oh, unfair am I? Didn't you just talk to me about how irrational it is to be in love with someone if it's gonna end anyway? Why bother now if it's gonna end in flames, isn't that what you were saying?"

"That's not the same thing!"

"Wrong! It's _exactly_ the same thing." Clara put her hands on her hips and shook her head at the man in front of him. "You have no idea how stupid you sound right now, do you?"

The Doctor didn't give a response. He stood there, staring in shock, at a total loss for words.

She threw her hands out in exasperation. "You're impossible! You really don't get it, do you?"

"Clara…"

"Don't you ever, y'know… fancy people?"

The Doctor's expression shifted from utter shock to confusion.

"Okay, different question: You've been married before, right?"

He nodded cautiously, still trying to figure out what she was getting at. "At least one of them was accidental, but yes. I have. Four times," he explained.

"So you've known love, right?"

"Must've had a reason for the marrying part, certainly."

"That's not a yes."

The frown deepened. After a moment, the Doctor sighed, rubbing his eyes with both hands. Finally, he looked up and the expression which had occupied his features just a moment ago was gone. The only thing left was weariness.

"Of course it isn't," he said at last, resignation reflecting in his body language.

Clara cocked her head to the side. "Why are you so hell-bent on believing that love is such a terrible thing? When did you… when did you become such a bitter old man?"

She regretted the words as soon as she'd said them. Immediately, the Doctor's features seemed to turn to ice, the frown taking on a stone-hard appearance. Those words had struck him deeply.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not Mr. Chinny with the floppy hair and the dickie-bow anymore!" He threw his hands up in defeat and finally the mask fell. He looked utterly frustrated. And… slightly sad. "I know what I felt, but I don't… I can't give you an answer, because I don't know if my feelings for them were ever there or if I was just lying to myself! My younger selves certainly thought they felt something, but… I don't feel that way anymore. I don't understand why. And newsflash: I never asked to change this way! It just happened. And yes, maybe I have become a bitter old man, Clara, but that's just who I am now! That's what regeneration does! It's a gamble, every time! My old self fades away and a new one comes along in its place, another me, born from the _ruin_ of a dying mind. And guess what? Sometimes, I don't like the result!"

For a moment, he stood there with a wild-eyed stare, hands raised in the air, breathing heavily. Then he heaved a great, deep sigh, which seemed to suck all the energy from his body. His whole frame sagged visibly. "I didn't _choose_ to become this way, Clara," he uttered at last, not quite looking at her.

And suddenly, it clicked. Clara saw the desperation in his eyes, the pleading expression of a man who still wasn't sure who he was. Who still didn't know what he was capable of. The uncertainty. The hurt. The fear. And suddenly, she heard the words creep up from her memory. The question, asked so long ago, an eternity ago it seemed, but which was still awaiting an answer. The question he'd asked with the same fear that lay reflected in his pupils right now. ' _Am I a good man?'_

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Ah… now I understand what this is all about…" she breathed.

Clara came closer and, with some hesitation, put her hands on his shoulders. She slightly moved them down his arms and gave a faint squeeze. The Doctor watched her warily.

"You're scared, aren't you? You're scared that your regeneration changed you more than you'd liked it to. And you know what? Maybe it's true. Maybe, in one short moment, you've changed more than you have ever before, more than you have ever changed in your whole life. Maybe you still don't know who you are, maybe you still can't recognize yourself in the mirror. But… as a really wise, young old man told me once: We all change. We're all different people, all through our lives… And that's okay." The next sentence she spoke hesitantly, with caution in her voice. "You used to understand it, didn't you? What it's like to fall in love with someone?"

The Doctor nodded hesitantly, mouth pressed shut tightly.

"And now you don't."

He nodded again.

Clara smiled. "You don't understand it… and that's fine. You're fine. Love, it's not for everyone. It's big and… and complicated and scary and wonderful and frustrating and… Anyway, just cause you don't understand it, that doesn't make you heartless. I mean, you can be a handful sometimes. You can be such a self-centered, loud-mouthed egomaniac and you're really annoying, but…" She glanced at him warmly. "You're not heartless. You'll never, ever be heartless. Cause you're still _you_. You're still the Doctor. And the Doctor… his hearts are so big, he carries the universe in them. He cares… oh, so much. Nothing will ever change that. Not one bit."

The Doctor's eyes, so close to her face now, darted from her eyes to her mouth and back, almost… searching. His body had gone stiff under her fingers and, remembering how touch-averse he'd become, Clara let go. He relaxed visibly, but stayed quiet. She could almost watch the gears whirring behind his eyes.

Taking a step back from him, she crossed her arms loosely and continued, "Look, all that stuff you might've felt long ago… All that stuff I feel when I think about Danny… those 'cupid's arrow' feelings, the desire, the attraction, that need to be close to him all the time… that's not love. People are really quick to pack all these big emotions inside that little word. But if you ask me, love isn't an emotion at all, it's it's more like… like a thing. It's like if you want to tell a person who is so, so important to you that you won't ever leave them. That you'll always be there for them. That… that they mean the world to you. That you'd follow them wherever they went, no matter how far and you want to share the rest of your life with them. That's when you tell someone you love them."

The Doctor stared. Re-playing the words in his mind again and again, he seemed to look straight through Clara. Unseeing, unblinking, his eyes directed at an invisible sentence that hung in the air in front of him, shimmering in brilliant, ever-changing colours, the light started to dawn in his eyes. Finally, he spoke in a faraway tone of voice. "It isn't an emotion at all, is it?" he said. "More like… a promise."

"Yeah," Clara nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

"A promise," he repeated, "the same way friendship is a promise, just… different."

Finally, his eyes focused on her. _Her._ Clara Oswald, his best friend in the universe. The person he cared for more than he did for anybody else. The person who had saved his life over and over again and still continued to, every single day, just by being there. Good old, dependable Clara. The person who made him see the wonders of the universe in a totally different light. How could he have been so blind? He should have known better. It didn't serve to dwell on things you'd never grasp anyway. Who needed a lover if you could have a friend like her?

The Doctor put his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned against the console, his eyes drifting back up at the blackboard. Clara did the same. They stayed like this, half-seated next to each other, sharing the comforting silence, while both of them followed their individual thoughts.

After a few minutes, a sigh escaped the Doctor's lips. But this time, instead of being heavy and laden with worry, it sounded content. Relieved, even. Then he glanced over at his friend. "Still don't understand it though," he said, making Clara chuckle.

"C'mon, frowny face." she gave a nod towards the central column. "Let's go for coffee. What d'you think?"

He shrugged. "Don't mind if we do. You're buying though."

"Still no money?"

"Nope."

"You should really get a job."

"Jobs are overrated," the Doctor said as he started flicking switches on the console. "Boring. Not me."

"You can talk! Normal people need to work, you know. Not everyone has a time machine!"

"Exactly!" A lightning fast smile flashed past his features as his hand clasped the main leaver, ready to make the Tardis kick into action. "How about Italy?"

"Sounds great," Clara agreed.

Excitement shone in his eyes as the Doctor activated the leaver. The time rotor started turning, accompanied by the familiar and ever-present wheezing and scraping of the Tardis engines. Only a few moments passed before the rotors stopped and a deep clanging sound announced their hopefully safe arrival.

Clara whirled around to face the Doctor excitedly. "Somehow, this never gets old. Where exactly are we? Rome? Naples? Genua?"

The Time Lord nodded towards the doors. "Go and have a look."

"Aren't you commin'?"

The Doctor gave her an absent-minded wave. "In a minute, just need to do a Thing."

"A Thing?"

"Yep. Just a Thing."

"Okay…" She gave him a sidelong glance. "But if you don't show up in five minutes, you're buying. An' I don't care how."

"Yes boss."

Clara smiled sweetly at him, then turned to leave. But before she could reach the door, the Doctor called out to her. "Clara?"

She turned around, looking at him expectantly.

The Doctor considered several different ways of expressing himself, all sounding equally wrong as he went through each of them in his mind. Oh, to hell with it. He turned his head towards his best friend. "Thank you," he said quietly, gratefully, "for all of it."

Clara seemed to understand exactly what he meant and smiled at him again. "You're welcome," she answered, then opened the doors and was swallowed up by the brilliant white light outside the Tardis.

As soon as the door closed, the Doctor made his way up the steps to the second floor. Once again, he stood in front of the blackboard. He lifted his arm and then wiped the words, which seemed so utterly irrelevant to him now, away with a sleeve of his coat. Then he fished out the chalk from his pocket. After a moment of contemplation, the busy sound of chalk scratching over slate echoed through the console room once more. He regarded the newly-written word, a hint of a smile perking up the edges of his mouth.

_PROMISE_

Then he turned around and bounded down the steps, past the console and out the doors. Stepping into the mild, pleasant morning air of what was hopefully southern Italy, he felt as content as he hadn't done in a long time.

"Shall we?" he asked Clara, allowing himself a rare, genuine smile.

Returning it just as brightly, she nodded. "Yeah, let's."

As the two of them went further and further away from the Tardis, she stabbed a finger into his ribcage playfully just before they rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

"That was over five minutes, by the way."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yeah, it was."

"Time Lord, Clara."

"Yeah, but I have a phone."

"How is that relevant?"

"It has a stopwatch."

"Shut up."

**Author's Note:**

> _To anyone who made it to the end: Thank you very much for sticking around and kudos for reading my ramblings! I hope you enjoyed the read! :) Feel free to share and comment, I'd really love to hear from you!_
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> _Also, if you have any requests, prompts or ideas for further stories, please send them to me! I'll see what I can cunjure up for you._
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> _I only have one rule: It stays platonic. So, you're not going to see any Whoufflé / Whouffaldi from me. Some of us are in desperate need of some stories that don't involve canoodling in the Tardis. Also, I need to warn you that I'm not a very fast writer, so it might take me a while to complete story requests, so... apologies in advance._
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> _But anyway, thanks for reading!_


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